Cheeses Crust!

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My car stopped in the sprinkling rain next to a wet Walmart curb. I lowered my passenger window to find a stocky man crouched looking at his phone and then at me through my window.

“Uber?”

I nodded. He sat his daughter in my backseat and then piled in his shopping cart full of groceries into the trunk before he plopped in next to his little girl. The chunky man started a friendly conversation before he asking a familiar question.

“Do you mind stopping at Little Caesar’s on the way?”

I smiled and nodded.

Stopped at another curb, the big guy hopped out in front of the cheap pizza joint.

“Stay here baby girl, daddy doesn’t want you to get wet.”

I pointed and told her dad where I was going to park while we waited. I was shocked. This guy left his little girl in a car alone with a complete stranger. She was quiet and very well behaved, but he had absolutely no idea who I was, and he placed a tremendous amount of trust in me.

After about ten minutes, he emerged from the pizza store with a short stack of boxes.

“What happened daddy?” the little girl asked twice.

On the way to his destination he told me about a Heart Attack pizza, a secret menu item that is sure to shave some days off of one’s life. He eats it against his wife’s wishes when she’s not around.

“I don’t have any cash for a tip, but… uh, I’ll hook you up with a slice if you want.”

I smiled. “That’s very nice of you and I appreciate the offer. I love pizza, so I’ll take you up on that.”

I do. I fucking love pizza. I would seriously sex up a pie if it would produce more pizza. Picture that scene from American Pie, where Jim is caught boning a dutch apple, but a pizza instead—that’s me.

If my other half would allow it, I would consume a shit ton more pizza than I already do.

It had been raining all day, and had maintained a steady drizzle, so when I pulled into his apartment complex, I offered to help him take his groceries in. He acknowledged that I didn’t have to, but happily excepted.

After two trips, he hooked me up with a big slice of pepperoni pizza. He offered me a second slice, and I almost excepted, but I politely declined and walked back to my car happy—as—fuck.

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